Alaska Republik-ARC (44 page)

“Oh, my dear, just wait until you see it. What they have done out there couldn’t be attempted in any church I’ve ever seen. And you look so beautiful!” Wing’s facial muscles twitched and Bodecia realized she barely maintained her composure.

Bodecia felt so full of emotion she couldn’t speak. Her only child, her wonderfully close friend for so many years, was going to leave her house now. This was a natural thing, even a needed thing, she knew that, but it still didn’t dampen the ache in her heart.

How can something be so right and yet so painful at the same time?

Through the wall came the strains of fiddles, accompanied by at least two flutes, a balalaika, and William Williams’ accordion. Bodecia had to concentrate for a moment before she recognized “Blue Skies of California,” the RCAF anthem. How on Earth had William got his accordion clear up here?

“That’s our cue, ladies,” Wing said brightly, stifling a slight sniff.

“Mother?” Magda said, holding out her hand.

Bodecia moved next to her daughter, carefully held her face in both hands, and drew her face down so she could kiss her cheek.

“I am so proud of you, Lieutenant Magda Anton Haroldsson, and I love you with all my heart. Now let’s go begin your future.”

She took Magda’s arm and they walked through the door held open by Wing and into the largest hangar at Tanana Aerodrome. Immediately the organ segued into “Lower Yukon Waltz.”

Bodecia and Magda gasped at the same time. The hangar had been transformed into a military fairy tale.

Two gleaming P-61s had been parked at an angle to each other and festooned with ribbons and long ropes of braided flowers that crisscrossed in a net pattern. The ribbons and braided flowers from each aircraft met over a small dais that was flanked by the flag of the Republic of California on one side and the new Alaska Republik flag on the other. Behind the aircraft were deployed white silk parachutes lending the suggestion of clouds.

Vivid floral bouquets lined the carpeted aisle that stretched from where they entered to the dais behind which stood Pelagian in a formal suit so ancient he looked like an illustration in a fashion history book.

“Where did he get that suit, Mother?” Magda whispered out of the side of her mouth.

“He’s had it for years. Where I don’t know, else I would have destroyed it and found him a new one,” Bodecia whispered back. She could feel Magda laughing but nobody else seemed to notice.

Pelagian seemed to be a mélange of emotions. Bodecia could see his pride in a wonderful daughter, his happiness for her happiness, the fear that her safety was now out of his control (as if it
ever
was under his control!), the honor he felt for being the master of ceremony on this memorable occasion; and yet there was something else.

It took her a moment to recognize his use of theater in this ceremony. Bodecia felt her throat tighten and willed it to relax. Pelagian knew if he made a hash of this for any political reason, he would never live it down in his own home.

That gave her a sense of peace and she walked the carpet with her daughter between rows of folding chairs mostly occupied by military from a number of nations on one side and a wonderful assemblage of Aleuts, Athabascans, Kolosh, Haidas, Yup’iks, Sioux, Cheyenne, Pawnee, Tsimpshean, Malemiut, and other Peoples she did not recognize, all in their best regalia.

During the Russian surrender at Delta, one of Colonel Buhrman’s men had taken a photo of Magda, surrounded by her exhausted troops, looking behind her at the sudden appearance of the Republic of California Army and the men under Lieutenant Colonel Smolst. Not yet aware they were allies, her expression is one of combined disbelief, despair, and anguish. Once the photo was printed in the
Sacramento Bee
with the caption “Beauty among the beasts,” it went all over the world.

Magda immediately became the face of the Alaskan War of Independence. She felt embarrassed by all the undeserved attention, but Pelagian said there was no harm in being lauded, especially when it kept their struggling nation in the eyes of the world. Her promotion to first lieutenant for her actions in the Battle of Delta gave her pride.

Bodecia thought her daughter deserved every ounce of praise that came her way. Ahead of them, Jerry stood in full uniform to the left of the dais. Rudi stood beside him wearing an impeccably tailored Russian Army uniform displaying his old Russian Command Sergeant Major rank complete with five rows of impressive decorations. She thought both men looked very handsome and striking.

They arrived at the dais and Bodecia released her daughter’s arm. Magda gave Jerry a dazzling smile. Pelagian cleared his throat.

“Family and friends, we have come together today to hear these two people pledge their troth to each other. As witnesses we sanctify and give their union recognition so they may face the future together with honor. Both Jerry and Magda have prepared their own vows.

“Jerry, tell your bride what you vow.”

Jerry turned to Rudi and took a ring that he slid onto Magda’s finger as he spoke. He stared into Magda’s face and Bodecia saw he was close to busting with emotion.

“I pledge you my love, my fidelity, my trust, my fortune, and my unending companionship from this moment forward. You are my dream come true, my future ennobled and blessed. I vow to always stay with you in heart, mind, and body through all trials, tribulations, and blessings. I love you without reservation.”

Pelagian had to clear his throat. “Magda, tell your groom what you vow.”

Bodecia carefully put the ring into her hand. Magda took Jerry’s hand and slid the ring firmly on before she spoke.

“I will always love you for the man you are, for the warrior you have become, and the protector you promise. I vow you my faithfulness, my support, my strength, and all my love. You have given my heart limitless horizons and a new world to explore by your side. I thank you for your honesty, your fidelity, and the hope that rages within me for our life together.”

“What these two people have pledged today, let no one doubt or deny.” Pelagian sounded hoarse. “Jerry, you may kiss your bride.”

Bodecia noticed that the ensuing cheer made the parachutes ripple. Then she had to wipe her tears.

General Grigorievich stood and seven other officers, some RCAF and some ARA, all in full dress uniform, also shot to their feet. The eight men had been strategically seated so that they were all an equal distance from each other. In a flash there were two rows of four standing at attention facing the newly weds.

“Center face,” Grisha ordered. The two rows now faced each other.

“Arch sabers.” With a fluid motion all eight of them pulled sabers from their scabbards, and as they lifted turned their blades in a clockwise motion so the sharp edge presented skyward and created an arch of brilliant steel.

Jerry and Magda walked back down the aisle, their smiles nearly as bright as the honor through which they walked. As soon as they passed the last two men, Grisha said, “Carry sabers.”

All blades returned to their scabbards.

“Rear face.”

The eight men pivoted and followed the happy couple.

“They had to have practiced that a lot,” Bodecia said to Pelagian who had come up beside her.

All of the other witnesses in the hangar broke into applause.

Abruptly the parachutes rose like so many curtains to reveal long tables filled with food and drink. In the center was a three-tier wedding cake.

Jerry and Magda leisurely ambled over to the cake and waited as their guests left their chairs and surrounded them.

Bodecia took hold of Pelagian’s arm and pulled him over to where a somewhat bewildered couple stood slightly away from the others.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamato, would you please come with us?”

Both nodded and smiled.

“I’ve never seen a wedding quite like this one,” Mrs. Yamato said.

“Me either,” Bodecia said with a chuckle. “Magda and her friends planned part of it and Jerry and his friends planned the other part.”

“Let me guess,” Mr. Yamato said. “Jerry and his pals came up with the sword part.”

Pelagian chuckled. “Actually, General Grigorievich and Colonel Buhrman planned that part. Jerry and the other pilots of the 117th designed the aircraft displays and the parachute curtains.”

“We have very talented children,” Mrs. Yamato observed.

“Yes,” Bodecia said. “We are truly blessed.”

They all watched as Jerry and Magda cut the cake with Jerry’s saber. Then the party began.

130

Four Months Later

Tanana, Provisional Capital of the Alaska Republik

“This is a test.” The sound of the microphone rose to a shrill squeal and everyone held their hands over their ears. Warm breezes wafted through the summer afternoon beneath a flawless blue sky.

“Sorry about that,” General Grigorievich said. “We’re all new at this stuff.”

The huge crowd chuckled. Tanana was jammed with people from all over the Alaska subcontinent. Official requests for space were more than triple what was actually available. One local man had made his fortune selling tents at three times what he paid for them originally and renting space on his property in which to pitch them.

“Never in the history of this planet has an event like this taken place. Much will transpire this day that will affect our lives and the lives of our children and their children. It is my incredible honor to preside over this assembly.”

Applause rose from all quarters.

General Grigorievich stood at attention until the applause died down.

“I present the elected delegates to the first Alaska Republik Congress.” He called their names as they stepped up on the stage in front of the podium.

After all twelve were called and identified, he added, “These are the first generation of lawmakers selected by the People. Honor them, and watch them carefully!”

Laughter mixed with the applause.

“Among these twelve, we must elect a First Speaker, which falls to those present.”

Grisha called out the names of all twelve legislators, but only two elicited more than moderate applause: Pelagian and Nathan Roubitaux.

Once the noise died down to conversational level, Grisha announced, “By universal acclaim, the two candidates for First Speaker are Nathan Roubitaux and Pelagian Haroldsson.”

The applause built and transcended what had gone before. Grisha wondered who was the true recipient. He saw Jerry and Magda in the crowd; they both looked radiant.

The applause finally died down.

“Who votes for Nathan Roubitaux?”

Hands shot into the air and Grisha waited while official counters made a tally. Finally one waved him on.

“Who votes for Pelagian Haroldsson?”

It seemed to him that more hands shot up than previously, but he also realized he may have seen that which he wished to see. He rubbed his face with his left hand and waited along with the crowd for the verdict.

He had known Nathan for a longer time but he had taken to Pelagian immediately upon meeting the man. Nathan always seemed to have an ulterior motive for everything that he did, whereas Pelagian seemed to do what was needed at the moment.

Up on the stage the two candidates stood next to each other, smiling and staring at the crowd.

The chief counter came over to Grisha. “General, as far as we can tell, they are within ten or twelve votes of each other. We’re going to have to do a paper ballot to make sure.”

“I thought that would happen.” He walked back to the middle of the stage. “We can’t get an accurate count by a show of hands.”

Somebody booed and others shushed him.

“We have four ballot boxes ready to go and a booth at each corner of the area.” He pointed. “Look for the white flags. Each person is given a piece of paper and if you want Nathan as First Speaker write an ‘N’ on it. If you want Pelagian as First Speaker, write a ‘P’ on the paper.

“When you put the ballot in the box, you will have the back of your right hand stamped with ink that takes a few days to wear off. You must show the back of your hand before you will receive a ballot. All right, citizens, let’s vote.”

Pelagian turned to Nathan and held out his hand. “Good luck!”

Nathan shook his hand and smiled. “Good luck to you, Pelagian.”

Grisha got into the shortest line and chatted with the woman in front of him who happened to be from Sealaska.

“This won’t sit well with people from other states, General. The crowd here is almost all Dená. I would wager there aren’t even any Aleuts at all, and damn few Tlingits other than you, me, and my husband.”

“No argument. I doubt that our two candidates would get the same acclaim in Akku or Kodiak. But this is a beginning for us on which to build. By the next election we will have a capital city and no doubt a variety of political parties.”

“Yes,” she said. “A lot must happen in the next four years. I think Sitka would be a good capital. It’s worked for three centuries.”

“For the Russians,” Grisha said with a small laugh. “But all of their administrative offices were in St. Nicholas on Cook’s Inlet.”

She smiled. “Perhaps we need regional capitals.”

“You may have something there. You’re next to vote.”

131

150 meters from the platform, Tanana

Timothy Riordan decided that Bachmann had been barking mad if he thought thirty men could stop this government thing with the Indians. Yet here he was, twenty feet off the ground in a tree, rifle with telescopic sights and all. He had seen his old guest, Pelagian, through the scope.

If it had been Bodecia, I probably would have fired!

The thought made him grin. He actually admired her even though she had been nothing but a pain in the ass for him. He suspected the attack on his camp had been a direct result of his capture of the three of them.

He winced at the memory of how little he had regarded the military prowess of the Dená. The Russians were what he feared then.

Good old 20-20 hindsight
.

He glanced down at N’go, stationed at the bottom of the tree in a clump of bushes. The huge black man was staring at something in the opposite direction of the village.